The Earth Died Screaming
by darkheadlights
Summary: Future fic, AU. Takes place about four years after the events of "Still." Terminus does not factor into this story.
1. Safe

**A/N:**I started this as a one-shot, then it took on a life of its own and exploded into this massive, multi-chapter story. I hope you like it. It's my first time writing about TWD.

Future fic, AU. Takes place about four years after the events of "Still." Terminus does not factor into this story.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _The Walking Dead_. Not the TV series, not the comic book series, not even Daryl. I got nothing. I also do not own Tom Waits or any of his songs, although I do love him dearly.

"_There was thunder, there was lightning, then the stars went out…_"

Beth's melodic voice, sweet as it had been when she was sixteen, rang out through the house, echoing back slightly. They'd managed to scrape together enough furniture to call this abandoned cottage a home, but the carpet, bloodstained and threadbare, and the general lack of furnishings made it anything but cozy. If Beth closed her eyes and sang, it reminded her of moving into the farmhouse her father built all those years ago – she only a toddler and Maggie a bossy eight-year old.

"_And the moon fell from the sky, it rained mackerel, it rained trout…_"

Beth scrubbed the chipped plates and teacups they'd eaten breakfast out of. She let her hands grow still, immersed in the warm, soapy water. She thanked God for small favors. They had a camp stove and a decent supply of fuel for it, allowing them the luxury of washing their dishes – and themselves – in hot water.

"_And the great day of wrath has come, and here's_…"

Beth trailed off, pulling her hands out of the water and mechanically wiping them off on a nearby rag. She tried again.

"_And…the great wrath – day of wrath has come, and here's_…" _Here's what? _she thought. "Come on, you know this," she urged herself, bracing her hands on the edges of the basin.

"Know what?"

Beth turned her bright blue gaze to the man who had just entered, crossbow slung over his shoulder as always.

"I rustled up some mushrooms and some wild berries," he said, offering the pouch to her. "I almost had a squirrel, but the little bastard got away from me." He winced. Daryl's eyesight had begun to fail him in the past couple of years, not enough to cause any real concern for their safety – his other senses were as sharp as ever – but with no way of getting a hold of glasses, other than happening upon them during one of their raids (which were getting to be fewer and farther between as they built up their stores), he had trouble spotting the rustle of a squirrel's tail or a snake's winding trail through the brush. They were living off of a mainly vegetarian diet while Daryl taught Beth how to use his beloved crossbow. The garden was much more plentiful than the surrounding wildlife was, anyway. It reminded Beth of the pre-apocalypse days when she considered herself a vegetarian. With a pang, she remembered how her father used to try to accommodate her new diet by separating the meatballs from the spaghetti sauce on Spaghetti Tuesdays, always a family favorite. She cleared her throat.

"Thank you."

"So what do you know?" Daryl asked, flopping down in one of the ratty armchairs that served as their main sitting area. Beth tilted her head, giving him a questioning look. "When I came in, you were sayin', 'C'mon, you know this,' to yourself," Daryl clarified.

"Oh…I – I forgot some song lyrics, and I was just mad at myself…"

"What song? More Tom Waits?" The left side of his mouth curved up slightly.

Beth had to chuckle. "You know me well. Yeah, Tom Waits. 'The Earth Died Screaming.'"

"Sing a little for me."

"But I don't remember all the words."

Daryl shrugged. "Don't matter. Make 'em up. You've written some of your own songs, haven't you?"

The way he talked about her singing made her feel more confident about her abilities. She tended to overcomplicate things, while Daryl liked to simplify. It occasionally made for some bitter disagreements, but secretly, it was one of her favorite things about him.

"Yeah…okay." Beth cleared her throat again, deciding to start from the beginning. Maybe it would help to jog her memory. She patted her hands on her thighs to get the rhythm started. "_Rudy's on the midway, and Jacob's in the hole. The monkey's on the ladder, the devil shovels coal with crows as big as airplanes. The lion has three heads, and someone will eat the skin that he sheds_…"

"Keep goin'," Daryl encouraged, leaning forward.

"_And the earth died screaming_," Beth continued, her voice gaining strength and clarity as she got further into the song. "_While I lay dreaming_._ The earth died screaming, while I lay dreaming of you_." A smile quirked onto her face and she locked eyes with Daryl's deep blue gaze. "_Well, hell doesn't want you, and heaven is full. Bring me some water, put it in this skull. I walk between the raindrops, wait in Bug House Square. And the army ants, they leave nothing but the bones. And the earth died screaming, while I lay dreaming. The earth died screaming, while I lay dreaming of you._" Her voice grew quieter and began to falter as she approached the part of the song she'd lost track of. She stomped a foot angrily and turned away.

"What's the matter? Forget the words again?" He asked the question innocently, but it grated on Beth like an insult.

"Forget it," she muttered. Knowing that she liked to have time to think when she was frustrated, Daryl quietly moved to their adjacent bedroom to change his clothes. A few days ago, Beth had come across an unopened suitcase, left behind by someone fleeing Georgia on the nearby highway. It was a treasure trove, full of men's pants and shirts and even a shaving kit, which Beth elected to use on her legs and underarms. Another luxury. Another reminder of their life before.

The lyrics continued to loop themselves through Beth's brain, torturing her like an earworm, a phenomenon she remembered reading about in high school. Chunks were missing, and no matter how she tried to force herself to recall them, they just kept slipping farther away. _If only Maggie was here_, Beth thought wistfully. _I bet she remembers_. Her big sister was on the move, along with Glenn, both trying to clear the surrounding area of walkers every time a new herd made its way into the area. They had no name for their little community. A name would have doomed it. It reminded them too much of the disaster that had been Woodbury. Rick was understandably reluctant to let in newcomers, so there were only about a dozen of them all together.

A knock came at the door, startling Beth out of her thoughts. "Hey Beth, you mind lookin' after Judith for a while?" Rick asked softly, the scars on his face a stark reminder of days gone by and a malevolent presence that Beth cursed daily. "Carl and I are making a run."

"Daddy, I'm old enough to take care of m'self!" Judith declared, crossing her arms defiantly. "I keep tellin' you! Tell him, Beth!"

"Aw, your daddy just wants to make sure you're safe, that's all, Judith," Beth said soothingly, her natural affinity for children coming out once again. "Come on, we'll play some games and your dad and brother will be back before you know it." Judith reluctantly stepped forward, allowing Beth to ruffle her light brown hair.

"Thanks, Beth," Rick said, nodding at her. He started to turn, then paused. "And that was a real pretty song you were singing earlier." Beth smiled, but said nothing, and he left. Judith ran to the corner where they kept a couple of dolls and wooden toys they'd found in a nearby house. Touching her stomach briefly, Beth wondered if she'd ever be able to call a child her own. Judith was the only little one their community fostered, now that Lizzie was gone and Mika was too grown to be called a child. Maggie and Glenn were trying, but with no success yet, and sometimes Beth worried that the burden – though she wouldn't necessarily refer to it as such – of childbearing fell to her, the younger Greene sister. It was the safest place they'd come to rest since the prison, and though they weren't much better equipped for a birth than they had been when Lori had Judith, it felt like a better environment to raise a baby or two.

"Beth!" Judith whined. "C'mere and play with me!" Shaking her head, Beth went to sit with the girl, picking up another doll and making it have a pretend conversation with Judith's doll.

"Hey, little ass-kicker, what's goin' on?" Daryl said, fixing the last button on his shirt and smiling at Judith.

"Daryl," Beth hissed. "Rick doesn't want you to call her that!"

"Pfft," Daryl flapped a dismissive hand and ruffled Judith's hair in much the same way that Beth just had. "I turned out all right, didn't I? And I knew way worse words'n that at her age." Beth pressed her lips together tightly and said nothing. She didn't like being reminded of how different her and Daryl's pasts were. She'd never be able to forget how violent he'd gotten the night she had her very first drink, talking about the abuse and neglect he'd suffered. He didn't like to bring it up either, usually, saying that he hated seeing the pity in Beth's eyes. Trying to push the thoughts aside, Beth picked up a toy truck and silently handed it to Daryl.


	2. Invasion

**A/N: Thank you for all the feedback, whether it's in the form of reviews or favorites and follows. I love to hear everyone's opinions. Just to clear a couple things up: there will be only one flashback in this story, and it goes back to before the apocalypse ever even happened. I respect the writers and don't feel qualified enough to figure out what they've got in mind for the rest of this season. Also, yes, Beth and Daryl are together. That will become abundantly clear in this chapter. **

**For disclaimer, see chapter 1.**

Later that night, Beth was attempting to make something appetizing out of the scavenged mushrooms and berries and a can of chickpeas they'd found in the corner of one of the cabinets. "Mushroom-chickpea stew, with wild berry compote for dessert," she declared, setting bowls and spoons down in front of Daryl and Judith. Rick and Carl had not yet returned, but that wasn't unusual; raids sometimes took a full day or two.

"Mind if I join in on the festivities?" Michonne tapped gently on the open door, her trademark katana slung across her shoulders.

"There's plenty," Beth said, grabbing another bowl from the pile and filling it to the brim with the stew, which actually didn't smell too awful. They tucked in, all four hungry from a day full of hard work. Michonne was usually on the trail with Maggie and Glenn, helping to clear, but a sprained ankle kept her (reluctantly, of course) off her feet most of the day. Carol had her winding long grasses together to make rope, which Michonne hated. They ate mostly in companionable silence, with the occasional interjection by Judith. After supper was over, Beth cleared the bowls and set to scrubbing again, while Daryl took Judith outside in the fading daylight to teach her to identify a few different kinds of edible plants.

"It's hard, isn't it?"

"What is?" Beth asked, not turning to face Michonne. She could feel the older woman's eyes on her back.

"Seeing Rick with Judith. It takes a lot for a child to survive in this world, there were a couple of close calls for sure, and the risks are sky-high, but…you still want one." Beth paused in her dishwashing. She shrugged her shoulders. Michonne was too perceptive sometimes.

"Is it hard for you?" Beth asked eventually. "Seeing someone else with a child, when..?" She trailed off.

"Hey, you can say it," Michonne said, her voice raw. "When I had one and I don't anymore. When I had one and he died. Everyone knows it now, so." She coughed and Beth steadfastly did not turn around, allowing Michonne to keep her pride. "Yeah, it is. It is hard."

"Well, the nice thing is we all kind of share Judith," Beth said thoughtfully, wiping dry the last clean dish and placing it among the others.

"They always did say that it takes a village to raise a child." Michonne smiled slightly. The cluttered exclamations and laughs that announced Daryl and Judith's return to the house cut their conversation short.

"Little Ass – uh, I mean, Judith here is getting real good at identifying plants," Daryl announced, nodding at the little girl, who beamed with pride. Beth gave him a look at the near slip, but couldn't help but smile.

"It's getting on towards your bedtime," she pointed out gently. The sky was growing darker by the minute. Beth turned to light the few candles they had. They had a kerosene lantern too, but that was for emergencies only.

"Here, I'll take her," Michonne offered, gesturing for Judith to follow her. "Your dad isn't back yet, but you can sleep in my bed, if you want." The girl nodded eagerly; her fear of the dark was well-established among the group. She tended to have nightmares – hardly unusual for a child that had been reared in such a rough environment, where an enemy could be lurking around any corner.

Daryl lifted a hand in farewell, then reached to Beth for a hug. She took comfort in his masculine scent and let herself melt into him a little. "So what were you and Michonne talkin' about?" he mumbled into her hair before pulling back.

"Oh, uh…" _Be honest or lie? _"We…we were talking about kids." Honesty was the best policy; that's what her dad had always said.

"Oh yeah?" Daryl leaned against the rotting countertop, looking at her steadily. "About how you want one?"

"How'd you know?" They'd never officially discussed it, though they'd been a couple for the past few years.

Daryl smiled, a rare treat. He wasn't much for displays of emotion. "I know you. I could tell." Beth grinned back, relieved at not having to explain her feelings. Occasionally she had to remind herself that it was okay to trust people, especially Daryl.

"So…what do you think?" she asked cautiously.

"As long as the kid gets all your genes and none of mine…" he trailed off, smiling still, although Beth knew there was seriousness behind it now.

"You know the nature versus nurture argument?" she asked. Daryl nodded, frowning at the sudden change in conversation. "I believe it's all about nurture," Beth explained. "Not so much nature. So even if he…or she…gets all your genes, well, we're gonna raise him…or her…to be strong. To be kind. To be clever. Like you. Not like…" She stopped, letting the idea of Merle and their father hang in the air.

"Hmm. Sounds pretty good to me," Daryl mused. "Do you wanna start now?" He grinned suddenly, a mischievous smile lighting up his face.

"Daryl! Not now!"

"Well, why not?"

"Uh…" Truthfully, Beth couldn't think of anything. The dishes were done. It was nighttime. Judith was safely tucked away with Michonne.

"C'mere." Daryl grabbed her hand and tugged her playfully to their bed.

* * *

The next day, Beth elected to work in the garden, handing tomatoes, carrots, potatoes, and zucchini to Michonne for her to wipe off and sort into portions. She hummed as she worked, the same song running through her head, though she still couldn't remember a few of the words. Daryl and Carol were on a run to the last remaining area they hadn't scavenged yet, a small group of businesses in a strip mall a few miles away. It was a warm, sunny September day, and all of the residents of their community were doing one thing or another outdoors.

"Daryl and I started trying last night," Beth suddenly announced, tugging a carrot out of the ground.

"Trying to..?" Michonne glanced up quizzically, and Beth gave her a look. "Oh, oh…well, that's good to hear," the older woman said, smiling into her lap as she scrubbed at a potato.

"I'm excited," Beth admitted, her voice soft. "I think this is the safest place we've been since the prison. And with Maggie and Glenn – and you, when you're back on your feet – clearing the area, it just seems…" She hesitated.

"Homey?" Michonne filled in. "Yeah, it does." Her hand gently brushed the handle of her katana, though, betraying the worry that underlay all of their contentment. It was never truly safe. Beth supposed that wasn't much different than the world before, if you gave it some thought. There was always a chance something bad would happen, even before walkers. Somebody could get injured, or sickness could spread, or a criminal could come bursting into your house and hurt you. "Hey, what's that?" Michonne muttered. She didn't sound overly concerned, so Beth continued picking vegetables, letting her check out the situation. The older woman limped to the edge of the garden and peered in a southerly direction. "Beth," she hissed after a few seconds. "Move slow. Come over here."

Beth immediately went on high alert, her heart rate speeding up. She stood and tiptoed over to where the older woman was standing. "Look there," she whispered, pointing to a copse of trees behind Rick, Carl, and Judith's dwelling. Something was rustling the leaves. Something taller than a deer. Beth automatically put her hand on her knife. "Where's Judith?" Michonne asked, barely moving her lips. Not for the first time, Beth wondered what she had done for a living before everything happened. She knew Daryl's history, and Rick's and Glenn's, and anyone could guess that Carol had been a teacher. Michonne was still a mystery.

"She's with Carol," Beth whispered back. "They're working on the well." Michonne nodded almost imperceptibly and drew her katana. "You can't fight injured," Beth protested, but it fell on deaf ears. Michonne was already limping closer. The younger girl followed close behind, placing one foot in front of the other to make minimal noise, as she'd been taught. "I think it's just a stray," she muttered, the walker's arms now protruding through the branches. It seemed to be alone. "Let me get it." Reluctantly, Michonne nodded and allowed Beth to get ahead of her, knife gripped tightly in hand. She waited patiently, trying to make her breaths even and slow in order to stay calm.

Even after so many years of dealing with them, walkers never stopped scaring her. They could lose someone so quickly, so easily. The ones they'd lost flashed across her mind as she slowly raised the knife, Hershel's kind face at the forefront. As soon as the walker's head emerged, Beth dispatched it, driving the knife deep into one of its eye sockets. It fell to the ground, motionless, and she stared at it. Like her father, Beth had always wondered if there would someday be a cure for the walker 'sickness,' and even though Rick had told her that they all had it, would all turn one day (it kept her up nights, sometimes, thinking of Daryl or Maggie becoming like…them), it never stopped affecting her. She couldn't help but think of the life this walker or that walker had lived before they turned.

As the years wore on, the already-dead bodies became increasingly decrepit, if that were even possible. All that wandering around took its toll on them too, Beth supposed. This one's clothes weren't even rags; they were mere threads, clinging here and there on the blood-sticky skin. Its ribs and pelvic bone were exposed and more than half its face was gone. She wasn't even positive whether it had been a man or a woman. She sighed and helped Michonne load the body onto a tarp and drag it to the edges of the cul-de-sac, where they burned the walkers.

"You should rest," she chided the older woman once they'd lit the fire. "Rick and Carl are gonna be back any minute now, and Daryl can't be too far away. They'll help when they get back. Go on." Michonne scowled, but knowing that she couldn't be of much use with an injured ankle, she limped back to her cottage, the smallest one in the group. Beth threw one last glance at the rapidly disintegrating walker and turned back toward the garden. She still had a job to do. They all did.

She inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of fresh soil as she dug more potatoes out of the ground. She wanted to start singing again, to see if she could bring the words back, but the appearance of a walker, even a lone one, made her more cautious. Beth glanced around. Apparently they had gotten rid of the walker so quietly that no one else had even noticed anything was amiss. She reached deep into the soft dirt for another potato. This one seemed oddly misshapen, and she frowned, tugging at it. It tugged back. She gasped. Lord knew how or why, but somehow a walker was buried underneath their garden. They'd tilled the soil and dug in it, and she had no idea how it hadn't been discovered before, but the fact remained that it had a hold on her – and it wasn't letting go.


	3. Guardian

**For disclaimer, etc., please see chapter one.**

Beth's left hand went to her waist, where she normally tucked her knife. Her panicked eyes spotted it a few feet away, on the lawn chair Michonne had been sitting on. She'd meant to wipe it clean before returning it to its place. She'd forgotten. _Don't panic don't panic don't panic _she thought, her pulse racing. Adrenaline gave her enough strength to pull herself free of the walker's grip, but the same pull also tugged its head free of its burial ground. This one had clearly once been a male, and it snapped its jaws hungrily, trying to reach her ankle. Though Beth had killed hundreds of walkers in the years since they first appeared, and had, in fact, just gotten rid of one only moments earlier, blind panic overtook her. She couldn't move. Inch by dreadful inch, the walker began to wiggle itself free, digging its mangled fingers into the dirt. Beth couldn't even scream. She was frozen. The click of the walker's jaws was all she could hear, the skin hanging off its bones all she could see. She almost didn't register it when an arrow drove through the back of its skull, right before her eyes.

"Beth! Beth! Can you hear me?" The voice reached her ears as if from a great distance. She collapsed into Daryl's embrace, tears streaming down her face.

"I – I couldn't kill it, I don't know why, I could have stomped on it, but – but I didn't," she cried, taking refuge in Daryl's arms. "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothin'," Daryl insisted, but as she focused her eyes on his face, she saw doubt there.

* * *

"You okay?"

Beth looked up from her book, a worn and tattered copy of _The Call of the Wild_. Yesterday's events were fresh in her mind and she was barely able to concentrate on the story. She'd been staring at the same page for about ten minutes, a fact that hadn't escaped Daryl's notice. "Yeah," she replied, avoiding his gaze.

"No, you ain't," he said matter-of-factly.

She sighed, a few stray hairs fluttering in front of her face. "No, I ain't," she repeated. "I don't know what happened yesterday."

"Rick's gonna wanna talk to you."

"I know." Even after all these years, Rick remained their de facto leader, usually flanked by the remaining members of the prison council – Michonne, Glenn, Daryl, and sometimes Carol and Carl. She supposed he'd come to speak to her about this alone, though, not wanting to embarrass her. Only Carol and Daryl had been witnesses to her failure. As if on cue, Carol herself appeared in the doorway, tapping gently to announce her presence.

"How are you, Beth?" she asked, her kind face hiding what Beth knew to be an incredibly strong, tough individual. Beth merely shrugged, unsure how to articulate how she was. Carol let it slide, turning to Daryl instead. "Did you show her what we found yesterday?" Her interest piqued, Beth looked at Daryl questioningly.

"Naw, not yet," he said, shifting a bit in his chair. "I was saving it for later."

"What is it?" Beth asked. Daryl exchanged an unreadable glance with Carol, then picked up his knapsack from where it lay next to him. He pulled out a large, square object, something Beth hadn't seen for an age.

"There was a music store in that shopping complex we raided yesterday," Daryl explained, handing the record over. "Wasn't much else useful in there, but I knew you'd wanna have that." He nodded to the object in Beth's hands as she looked at it reverently. "There was a record player too, but without electricity…" He shrugged apologetically, like it was his fault they couldn't plug anything into an outlet.

"Thank you," Beth whispered. The almost comically disturbing artwork on the record's cover gave her a wave of nostalgia. She remembered buying this CD with Maggie.

"That has the right song on it, don't it?"

Beth nodded, smiling.

"Maybe you could sing some for us later," Carol suggested, unaware of the younger girl's struggle with remembering the words.

"So Rick's not gonna kick me out?" Beth asked bluntly. Carol's lips tightened.

"No," she answered, her voice soft but clear. "We wouldn't do that."

"But I'm a liability," Beth protested, putting down the record and letting her hands ball into fists. "You should send me off on my own, like – " She stopped short.

"Like Rick did with me?" Carol asked, finishing Beth's thought. The younger girl nodded reluctantly. "He did what he thought was best for the group," Carol continued. "And we think it's best for the group that you stay. You got spooked, that's all. No one could have guessed there was a walker buried underneath all our vegetables." She made a face, and Beth could tell she was wondering if _that _was what had been fertilizing their food. "Besides, do you really think Daryl or Maggie would let that happen?" Beth looked at the man sitting across from her and felt relief and love fill her heart.

"No," she admitted. Carol smiled and said she'd leave them alone for the time being.

"Can I tell you something?" Daryl asked after a few moments of peaceful silence.

"'Course you can."

"Remember when we were on our own, that night we burned down that house?" Beth nodded. Of course she did. It was the night she first felt like she really _knew _something about Daryl, something real, something true. "You said I was made for the way things are now," he continued. "Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't, but sometimes I feel like…" He paused. "Like I'm better off in this world. More useful. You, you were meant to grow up happy and loved by your family and your friends, go to college, marry a real nice guy, become a singer or somethin'." He chuckled. "I would've just kept goin' the way I was goin', with Merle. Following him around like a loyal dog."

"No," Beth started to protest, but Daryl held up a hand.

"Yeah, yeah. I had no plans. No…_ambition_. I dropped outta high school. Never would've gotten to college or anythin' like that." He paused again. Beth waited patiently. "It's funny, the way things worked out. Never thought nobody had a plan for me. Never thought I'd be much good for anyone."

"You're good for me," Beth said softly. He studied her face in the flickering candlelight. His lips curved upward.

"Yeah, I guess you're good for me, too," he said gruffly, standing and pulling her into a tight embrace. He pulled back after a moment and found her lips with his own, stroking her hair with his rough fingertips. Beth smiled as he pulled back. "Let's take a look at this record." He sat down in the armchair, tugging Beth so she was sitting on his lap. "There might be some liner notes in here. We could figure out that song."


	4. Lost

**A/N: A note about this chapter...I have no idea if it's actually possible to make homemade bolts for a crossbow. Obviously, you can make homemade arrows, and according to my research, Georgia has plenty of arrowheads buried here and there from Native Americans. Bolts are another story, though, and I know next to nothing about crossbows. Please just do me a favor and suspend your disbelief.**

The following morning, Rick's knock came on their door bright and early. Beth was expecting it – despite Carol's assurances that she wasn't being ostracized, of course Rick would still want to address the unresolved issue.

"Hi, Rick," Beth said softly, letting him slip past her.

"You know why I'm here," Rick blurted, dispensing with the pleasantries. Beth nodded, gesturing for him to take a seat. He refused and she immediately felt uneasy. Sitting made it seem less threatening, somehow. "Where's Daryl?"

"He left earlier. Said he was going to work on his aim."

Rick nodded. "Michonne told me ya'll were trying." Beth let the slight betrayal slide by her – Michonne hadn't meant any harm, and she'd never said it was a secret. "Well, I think that's great," Rick continued, to Beth's surprise. "Anything that brings us happiness and a little bit of hope is good in my book." He shifted, crossing his arms. "It'll be a risk, of course, I mean, you saw how hard it was for Lori." He winced involuntarily as he said his wife's name. He would always miss her, Beth knew, just like she would always miss her parents. "Now, Carol told me what happened yesterday." She braced herself. "You were lucky Daryl happened to get back right at that time. We mighta lost you. And nobody wants that. Especially if you're already…" He trailed into silence, awkwardly gesturing toward Beth's midsection.

Beth shook her head, her ponytail swaying back and forth. "I don't think I am yet," she assured him.

Rick sighed and nodded, and finally took a seat, to Beth's relief. She sat too. "Carol said you were worried we were gonna let you go," he said. "If I saw you as a real threat to the group, yeah, I'd probably have a tough decision to make. And it does concern me that you weren't able to kill that walker in the garden. But you're a part of this group, Beth. You have been since nearly the beginning. And Maggie…" Rick shook his head slightly. "I can't even imagine what she'd do if I made you leave. Probably try to kill me." He chuckled. "She's back, by the way."

Beth perked up. "Really?"

"Yeah, let's go see 'er." They stood and headed toward the northernmost corner of the cul-de-sac, where Maggie and Glen lived. Beth started walking fast, then running, once her sister was within her sights. She was always relieved to see her safe.

"Maggie!" Beth exclaimed, throwing her arms around the older girl. She then turned to Glenn and hugged him too. "How did it go?"

"We only found a few stragglers," Maggie explained, setting down her knapsack. "Looks like this area's almost clear, at least for the time being." Rick exchanged a brief look with Beth.

"A couple were here yesterday," he said. "One of 'em almost got Beth."

"Where did it come from?" Glenn asked as Maggie pulled her sister to her again, a look of shock on her face.

"There was one behind Rick's house," Beth revealed. "And one buried underneath the garden."

"What? Underneath it? How did we not find it till now?" Maggie asked. Beth and Rick shrugged. "And where could the other have come from? I thought…I thought we had the immediate area all clear." Her face started to crumple.

"Maggie, it isn't your fault!"

"Yes it is! My sister almost got killed and I could have stopped it!" Maggie lifted a distraught hand to her face and Glenn put an arm around her.

"It was alone, so chances are it heard a noise or smelled somethin', strayed from the rest of the herd, and you just…missed it," Rick said, shrugging. "It's the world we live in, Maggie. We're probably never going to be able to get every single one. They're like locusts."

_Locusts_, Beth repeated silently. Why did that resonate with her? She shrugged it off, nodding in agreement with what Rick had said. Glenn took Maggie inside to comfort her, promising that they could all have lunch together in a few hours. Beth gathered the vegetables she'd picked the day before and gave them an extra good scrubbing. They couldn't afford to let food go to waste, and there was no evidence so far that the garden had been negatively affected by the walker buried beneath it.

Daryl popped his head in the door, crossbow in hand. "Hey, you wanna practice a little while we got good light?"

"Yeah, okay," Beth said, wiping her hands off and clearing her throat. She followed Daryl outside to a tree with a crude target painted on it. When he'd started to run out of bolts, he and Beth taught themselves how to make their own out of sharpened sticks, glue made by mixing flour and water, feathers, and string. It took some trial and error, but they were experts at it by now, and Daryl was comforted by the fact that he didn't have to worry about running out. He pulled one out now, cocked the heavy crossbow for her, and handed it over.

"All right, now you know what to do…" Daryl muttered. "Hold it steady…aim for the target…squeeze the trigger, and…" Beth released and the arrow landed left of the bullseye.

"Damn!"

"Naw, that was really good," Daryl assured her.

"Not good enough if I'm aiming for the head and it flies right past it," Beth pointed out.

"You just need practice. C'mon, try again." He stood behind her and helped her steady the bow. She hit the target square in the center "See?" Daryl smiled. "Just have a little faith. It's a leap every time you let go of the trigger. You just gotta keep going." Beth tried to put aside her frustration – she knew she'd never be as good as he was. It didn't help that she hadn't killed that walker and that the record, as sweet a gift as it was, had turned out to contain no hint of the lyrics. Her confidence was shaken. She let loose another arrow.

They continued to practice until Glenn called them over for lunch. "How's target practice?" he asked.

"She's gettin' real good," Daryl nodded, chucking Beth gently under the chin. "She'll be able to teach Judith before you know it."

"Or your own kid?" Glenn asked, a mischievous smile crossing his face.

"Does _everyone _know?" Beth threw her hands up in the air and sighed, but she wasn't really angry. Gossip couldn't help but spread like wildfire through a community as small as theirs.

"No, it's good, it's a good thing," Glenn assured them, holding open the door as they entered his and Maggie's house. "She's still upset over what happened earlier," he informed them in a low tone.

"I made your favorite, Beth!" Maggie herself announced from the kitchen. They had a camp stove set up too. "Spaghetti!"

"Thanks, Maggie, that's real sweet. We could have made do with something simpler. You didn't have to go through the trouble," Beth said.

"Of course I did. We're celebrating!"

Beth exchanged a look with Daryl. "We are?"

"Because you guys are, you know, trying!" Maggie smiled big, a little too big for Beth's taste.

"Are you okay?" she asked cautiously. "You know it – it wasn't your fault, right?" Beth's eyes darted from Glenn, who shrugged, back to her sister.

"Oh, yeah, I mean, I wish I could've stopped that from happening to you, but…it's not like we're not used to it by now, right?" Maggie laughed, the sound ringing false in Beth's ears. Daryl nudged her.

"Maggie, you wanna talk upstairs?" Beth asked quietly. "The spaghetti will keep."

"Okay. Glenn, Daryl, you get started, all right? Wouldn't want anyone to go hungry." Maggie turned abruptly and led the way up the stairs, Beth trailing behind.

"What's upsetting you?" She sat down on the bed next to Maggie.

"Nothing," her sister replied, but her voice broke a little. Beth waited. "I just – I'm never jealous, you know I'm not a jealous person, but – you're probably gonna get pregnant real soon and – Glenn and I keep trying, but…" Maggie's words hitched on a sob. "What if there's something wrong with me, or wrong with Glenn, that means we can't have a baby? We don't even have a doctor around anymore to help…"

Beth took Maggie's hands in hers and rubbed them comfortingly. "No, we don't, but Carol's pretty good with that stuff. She knows first aid, and that's better than nothing…maybe she could help." Not for the first time, Beth wished there was a hospital they could go to. If there had to be walkers around, couldn't there at least be a place to go when you got injured or needed help? "Why don't we go ask her about it after spaghetti?" she suggested. "It smells good, and I'm hungry."

Maggie nodded, sniffled, and wiped her face. "Okay," she agreed, and they went back down the stairs together.

**A/N: So how do we all feel about last night's episode? I won't give anything away in case someone hasn't watched it yet, but wow. Just wow. The last two episodes are going to be crazy, I'm sure!**


	5. Haven

**A/N: I know this story is moving kind of slowly. I promise that things will speed up soon. I always tell people who have never watched the show that it's not really all about zombies and blood and guts; it's about the _characters _and their development over time. Also, yes, I changed my username.**

"Carol?" The older woman looked up from the revolver she was cleaning.

"Hi, Beth."

"Got a second?" Beth stepped into Carol's living room, her hands clasped behind her.

"Of course." Carol set the gun aside and gestured for the younger girl to take a seat. "What's troubling you?"

"Nothing, really, I was just thinking…as self-sufficient as we are here, I thought it was a bit strange that we don't really have a set place to take people when they get hurt."

"Like a hospital?" Carol leaned forward, resting her chin on her palms.

"Yes, but obviously much, much smaller. We have some first-aid supplies scattered around in the houses, but if an arrow went astray, or somebody got shot like Carl did, we'd have to move fast and wouldn't have time to hunt around for the right equipment." She bit her lip. "Dad's not around anymore, and we don't have Dr. S. either…" They both took a second to remember how wonderful it had been to have two doctors in their group. "But you have some first-aid experience, don't you? You had to, to be a teacher, right?"

Carol nodded. "Yes, I had your basic first-aid training, CPR and all that. It's much harder when we don't always have the necessary supplies available to us. Remember how Shane and Otis had to go to the school, for Carl..?" She trailed off, again remembering those they had lost. She shook her head, as if to clear it of old memories. "Anyway, Beth, I think that's a great idea. It's something I've been thinking about too. Now that we have the food situation pretty much sorted out, the area's mostly clear, and we're about as settled as we can be, a clinic is the logical next step. Good thinking." She smiled and stood up. "Want some tea? Maybe elderberry?" Beth nodded and smiled back. She felt useful again.

Carol was back in a matter of minutes, holding two mugs of steaming tea. It was small comforts like this that made Beth feel like they really could stay here…cautious as she was, never forgetting her misguided confidence that they'd be able to stay at the prison forever. No such luck. "Thank you," she said softly. "Carol…"

"Was there something else you wanted to talk about?"

"Yes, well…on behalf of my sister, I guess." Beth shifted uneasily. Maggie, feeling uncharacteristically shy about her and Glenn's potential problem, handed over the duty of asking about it to Beth. She'd give her life for her sister, though, so she drew in a deep breath and sorted her thoughts. "Maggie and Glenn are trying to have a baby," she said, deciding to leave out the fact that she and Daryl were trying too. Carol probably already knew, anyway. "They've been…working on it for a while," she continued delicately, "and Maggie's very concerned that there might be something the matter with one of them."

"I see." Carol frowned, thinking. "Well, age isn't the culprit. They're both definitely still young enough to have a child. Unlike me, anymore." She chuckled ruefully, and Beth felt a pang, knowing she had to be thinking about Sophia. Even though Beth had never known her, Daryl had told her all about the little girl and how hard he'd tried to find her. She knew he blamed himself for too many things that hadn't been his fault. "It could be something internal," Carol went on. "Do you know if Maggie's been having periods regularly?"

The old Beth would have blushed at the merest suggestion of sexuality and the phenomena that came with it. As it was, she simply replied, "She said she was." Carol nodded and went to the bookcase in the corner.

"Well, here's something we'll definitely add to that clinic we were talking about…we were lucky to find this." She pulled out a hefty tome and blew the dust off the top of it. Beth read the title to herself: _Complete Home Medical Guide_. "Let's see here…infertility and problems in pregnancy, here we go…this book's got everything." She smiled briefly at the younger girl and sat down next to her so she could look too. They puzzled over it together and made a list of the possible problems Maggie or Glenn could have, deciding that the best course of action was just to keep trying. It couldn't hurt.

Beth started back towards the home she shared with Daryl, humming to herself again. She could swear she'd had a dream about the song the night before. She'd woken with it in her head. Maggie might know the missing lyrics, but Beth didn't want to bother her with something so trivial when her sister had bigger things on her mind. She bit her lip, remembering the first time she'd ever heard Tom Waits.

_"Now, you might not like this too much at first," her father chuckled, sitting little Beth down on the sofa next to the record player. "It takes some getting used to, like…like a fine wine. Or, uh, coffee," he quickly amended, looking abashed for some reason Beth couldn't decipher. She blinked up at her dad, never having tasted wine or coffee, but trusting that she was going to like whatever they were about to listen to. He carefully placed a record, which seemed comically large compared to the CDs her big sister and stepbrother were obsessed with, on the player, switched it on, and set the needle in one of the grooves. _

_"They hung a sign up in our town. 'If you live it up, you won't live it down.' So she left Monte Rio, son, just like a bullet leaves a gun…"_

_Beth listened carefully until the song ended, unconsciously patting her hands on her knees to follow the rhythm. "Daddy, why's his voice so scratchy? Is he sick?" She scrunched up her face in confusion as Hershel laughed. _

_"No, he's not sick. That's just his voice."_

_"What's his name?"_

_"That, my dear, is Tom Waits."_

_"That's a funny name. Can we listen again?"_

A few tears escaped down Beth's cheeks before she angrily wiped them away. She couldn't be the crying girl, not anymore. She couldn't afford to have that weakness. "We all got jobs to do," she whispered to herself, pushing open the door.


	6. Scream

Weeks passed uneventfully, at least as far as walker appearances went, and Beth was still unable to recall the lyrics she so sorely missed.

"You just gotta put it out of your mind," Daryl insisted. "Let it go and it'll come back to you, like a boomerang." He made a whistling sound and flipped a hand like he was throwing one. "Trust me." Beth did, but she found it impossible not to think about the song. She tried making up her own words, but that just felt wrong. It wasn't her song; it was Tom's. She wished she could find him and ask him what the words were – surely _he _remembered. Finally, she knocked on her sister's door. She and Glenn hadn't had any luck yet, as far as she knew, but Maggie seemed more cheerful than usual, probably because they'd finished clearing a three-mile radius around the community.

"Maggie, you remember when Daddy used to play us Tom Waits sometimes?" Beth asked as they sat down on the porch swing.

Maggie scrunched up her face. "I guess so."

"Do you remember any of the words? I'm havin' trouble with one of the songs, and I just wish – I wish I could remember," she finished lamely, her predicament sounding far less dire once she'd voiced it. Daryl seemed to intrinsically understand, but it sounded so trivial before a different audience.

"Uh…" Maggie tapped her fingers, thinking. "I guess I remember some. I mean, Daddy played him a lot, and you like 'im, so I've heard you sing his songs." She shrugged. "Why, did you forget some of the words?"

Beth was feeling more embarrassed by the minute. It sounded so dumb and unimportant coming out of Maggie's mouth. "Yeah, but it's not a big deal." She decided she would try Daryl's method of forgetting-to-remember. Maybe it really would come back to her. They swung back and forth in silence for a few moments, listening to birds chirp and the breeze brushing against leaves. There was a distinct chill in the air, hinting toward the approaching winter.

"I've forgotten things too, you know," Maggie said eventually, surprising Beth.

"Like what?"

"Like…I used to know Mama's special recipe for lasagna by heart." Maggie half-smiled at some unseen memory. Beth imagined a child-sized Maggie, running around the kitchen and helping her mother cook. "Not that it really matters now. But I can't remember hardly any of it." She glanced over at her sister. "I know that's not really the same, though."

Beth shrugged. "It is, kinda. Dad got me started on listening to Tom Waits. I guess it…it's like this connection we both have to our family and our past, and it's fading away…" Beth looked at the toes of her dirty sneakers. Maggie reached over and clasped her sister's hand in her own.

"We've still got each other," she said.

"Yeah. We do," Beth replied. They sat there for a while in companionable silence, just swinging.

* * *

_And the great day of wrath has come__  
And here's mud in your big red eye  
The poker's in the fire  
And the locusts take the sky_

Beth awoke with a start, the words still whispering in her ear. She glanced over at Daryl, who was fast asleep and facing the other direction.

"Those are right, I know they are," Beth said to herself, getting out of bed quietly so she wouldn't disturb Daryl. She grabbed a scrap piece of paper and a pencil and scribbled the words down as fast as she could, afraid they'd fade back out of her memory as quick as they'd come in. Gazing down at the missing lyrics, she breathed a sigh of relief. The knot of anxiety that had been gnawing at her stomach the past few weeks was dissipating. Heaven knew how a song could have this deep an effect on a person. All she knew was that it did.

She crawled back into the still-warm bed and stroked Daryl's bare shoulder. He started and flipped over, squinting at her blearily. "Wassit?" he mumbled. "Mm, walkers?"

"No, no."

"Rrn, 'kay."

Beth hid a smile as he closed his eyes again and wrapped an arm around her waist, trying to urge her back to sleep. "No, Daryl, wake up. I remembered."

"Th'words?" he slurred, slightly more alert now.

"Yeah."

"Well, give 'em up, girl." He arched an expectant eyebrow at her.

"Should I start from the beginning?"

"If you wan'."

Beth sang the whole song quietly, aware of the early hour and nearby houses, but with a level of confidence she hadn't felt in ages.

"Told you they'd come back," Daryl said. Beth couldn't help but kiss that crooked smile. Then a high-pitched scream broke the silence.

**A/N: I will not be updating again until after the season finale on Sunday. I am so worried about Beth, you guys. :( No matter what happens, my story stays the way it is now, a Bethyl fic, so at least there's that. Read and review, please!**


	7. Missing

**A/N: DARYL'S SAFE!...kind of. For now. PM me if you want to talk about last night's finale! **

**At this point in the story, the plot will no longer surround Beth's need to remember those song lyrics. From here on out, it will take a turn. I still find the title and the lyrics very relevant to TWD, so instead of writing a sequel, I'm going to continue right here. **

**P.S. I started writing this before "The Grove" aired. You may have noticed that I glossed over Lizzie's absence in chapter one. That was because I had a feeling _something _was going to happen to her, though I wasn't sure what. I never thought Mika would be gone too (at least not so soon), so she's still in the story. **

Beth and Daryl shot out of bed, both instantly alert. "Do you think it's walkers, or..?" Beth asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Walkers were simple. Walkers they could handle. Other people were what you had to worry about the most. The sound split the air again; neither could identify the screamer.

"Whatever it is, it ain't good," Daryl said under his breath, readying his crossbow.

"Here." Beth helped him to steady it while he drew the bow back and secured it. She met his eyes briefly and saw fear there. They'd been too content. In the old days, everyone needed only a split second to react to an attack. Now they were slower, clumsier – more vulnerable. "Let's go," she whispered, squeezing his hand, partially to reassure him, partially to reassure herself. But no sooner had they opened the bedroom door than they heard someone blundering into the house.

Daryl pushed Beth behind him and peered out, crossbow first. "It's Rick."

"Rick, what happened?" Beth asked, feeling her pulse quicken as she saw the panic on the older man's face. Rick never panicked.

"I don't know," he rasped, breathing heavily. "I heard screaming – I didn't see anything – I'm goin' house to house."

"We'll help," Beth volunteered. Daryl gave her a warning look.

"You should go to Maggie's, in case there's danger," he murmured. Beth being Beth, however, she insisted on helping them.

"I'm not the same innocent, helpless little girl I was when this all started," she whispered to him as they patrolled the perimeter.

"I know that," Daryl muttered back. "I just want you to be safe." They exchanged a glance, each feeling prickles of anxiety at the idea of losing the other. "Stay close," he advised. "Please." Beth nodded.

"Michonne's missin'," Rick panted, catching up to them.

"Missing? Are you sure?"

"She's not in her house, she's not in anybody else's, I didn't see her anywhere outside. And – " He glanced quickly at Daryl, hesitating.

"What?"

"Carol's gone too."

Carl came running up behind his father just then, distracting Rick, but Beth's eyes were trained on Daryl's face. He looked stricken. She knew, of course, that Daryl and Carol shared a special bond, something that was intangible but still visible to anyone with eyes. The woman had never criticized Beth and Daryl's choice to be with each other, however, for which Beth was grateful. A veto from her would have almost definitely held enough weight to stop their relationship before it ever got a chance to start.

"Well, let's get lookin', then," Daryl said, already scanning the area for clues. "No time to waste!" he barked at Beth, who flinched, then trailed after him, attempting to track like he would track. She could hear her own heavy breathing in her ears, could feel her heart pounding in her chest. It beat out a rhythm that seemed to say _dan-ger dan-ger dan-ger_. Distracted, Beth nearly plowed into Daryl, who was stopped short ahead of her. She followed his gaze and felt the downy hair on the nape of her neck stand on end. Michonne's trademark headscarf and her katana were strewn across the grass.

"No blood." Daryl paced in a circle around the discarded items. _And no sign of Carol_, Beth added silently. Was that good or bad? Daryl crouched down and investigated more closely, running his fingers along the grass. "There was a struggle here," he noted, a grim look on his face. "No traces of walkers, so I think it had to be a human." Beth's heart sank. "Rick! Carl! Are you sure everyone else is accounted for?"

Rick nodded, glancing at his son for confirmation. "Everyone is here. Scared, but here. Judith's fine, Mika's fine. They didn't see anything, even though they were with Carol last night." He raked an anxious hand through his curls.

"Musta been an outsider, then," Daryl muttered.

"Look over there," said Beth, frowning into the distance and pointing. Fresh drips of oil splattered in one place on the crumbling pavement, heading away from the cul-de-sac.

"Good eye." Daryl nodded, touching the spots. Grease came away on his fingertips. "Very recent. We got company."

"Let's talk to Glenn and Maggie," Beth suggested. "Maybe they saw something on a run through the area, but didn't realize it meant anything at the time."

"You go," Daryl said, clapping her on the shoulder. "I'm going to follow this road for a piece, see if I find anythin' else."

Beth bit her lip, but knew he was going to go, no matter what she said. "Be careful."

"I always am."

"Be _extra _careful," Beth emphasized, looking him in the eye. He nodded and kissed her lightly on the cheek. He turned, slinging his crossbow on his back. "Daryl." He looked back. "I love you."

The flash of a smile lit his face for an instant. "I know." Beth trotted in the opposite direction with Rick and Carl, throwing one last glance over her shoulder. She had a bad feeling, but tried to squash her worries for the sake of keeping everyone else as calm as possible. Chaos and panic were the last things they needed.

For the first time, it occurred to Beth the significance of the particular song that had haunted her over the past weeks. The earth as they all knew it had died screaming – literally, in many cases – with the onset of the walker virus, or disease, or whatever it was. A light tremor snaked its way up her spine. Other songs were comforting, but this one chilled her to the bone, when she bothered to think about it more carefully. A sick feeling lurched in her stomach and she had to pause, leaning against a fence, before she made it to Maggie and Glenn's.

"Y'all right?" Rick asked, noticing when she fell behind. Beth just nodded, trying to slow her breathing down. It seemed like a bad omen now, the song. Maggie and Glenn ushered the trio inside. Beth accepted Maggie's hug without really returning it, her mind elsewhere.

"We haven't seen anything suspicious," Maggie said, chewing on her lip. "I'm tryin' to think, but I really don't…" She left off and shrugged, almost on the verge of tears. Judith, sitting at the table, looked wide-eyed from face to face. She looked close to tears herself and Beth crouched beside her and stroked her hair to settle her down.

"Actually…" Glenn rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. "Maggie, remember that weird mark we saw on a tree, a few weeks back?" He turned to Rick, Carl, and Beth. "We figured it could have just been from a walker brushing up against it, but maybe it was a symbol of some kind."

"Did you see any others?" asked Rick.

Glenn shook his head, looking to Maggie for confirmation. "Don't think so. Michonne might've noticed another, but if she did, she didn't say anything…I think I remember where we saw it, though. I could probably lead us to it."

"Let's go. Beth, you coming?" She hesitated, but then thought of Daryl, out there trying to put some of the pieces together. She had to help.

"Let's go," she repeated.


	8. Signs

The group wound their way through the woods surrounding the cul-de-sac they called home, worried much less about walkers than about strangers. Judith was told to hide under her bed with Mika and keep the door locked until she heard a familiar voice. Rick hated to leave her, but for a five-year old, it was safer to leave her behind than to drag her through the forest with no real knowledge of what danger may lie ahead. Glenn led the way, Maggie trailing slightly behind, with Beth, Carl, and Rick bringing up the rear. They traveled in silence, trusting Glenn to find the marked tree. It didn't sound like much of a lead to Beth, but she reminded herself that anything that could be a clue to Michonne and Carol's whereabouts had to be thoroughly investigated. Beth trotted along with a hand on her knife, all too aware that danger could still be lurking on the other side of any tree, and might not be as easy to take care of as a walker.

"I think it was somewhere around here," Glenn muttered after about a twenty-minute walk. Beth swallowed hard and took steady breaths as they slowed their pace. She felt much more sluggish than usual.

"There it is," Maggie said, pointing out a tall beech tree just ahead. A diagonal streak marred the light brown bark just above Beth's head. She touched it lightly, tracing the reddish slash.

"Would've had to be a really tall walker to make that," Carl commented, nodding his head towards the tree. "It's gotta be a sign of some kind."

"Directions, maybe?" Rick suggested.

"But to where? We never saw any others," Maggie replied, staring up at the mysterious mark.

On a hunch, Beth lifted her fingers to her nose and sniffed. When the rest of the group stared at her, she explained, "It's blood. Not from a walker, though. It smells…too fresh." She wrinkled her nose at the rusty red substance, contrasted sharply with the paleness of her skin. The coppery scent reminded her of the night she'd tried to cut her wrists. It seemed so very long ago now.

"Wait, if it's fresh enough that you can smell it, then – " Glenn hesitated, turning in a circle on the spot. "There's another!" A similar looking tree about ten yards off had an identical slash down its trunk. "We were looking at a different one," he said wonderingly.

"What if it's from – " Maggie cut herself off, looking around at the familiar faces. But Rick shook his head.

"I used to see this kinda thing every once in a while when I was a sheriff. It's a cult sort of thing – they leave signs with their own blood to lead unwitting new members to the home base." He rubbed at his jaw in anxiety. "It never came to anythin' good."

"I wish Daryl were here," said Glenn, examining the second mark. "He's good with this kind of thing. Where is he, Beth?"

"Um, he wanted to investigate…see if he could find out where the people who took Michonne and Carol are stayin'." Beth felt the urge to look at her wristwatch, but the battery had died long ago. She wore it out of habit. "Daryl didn't know we were gonna be walking through the woods," she realized suddenly. "Rick, I have to go back and see if he's there. I don't want him to think the rest of us are missing too." Beth panicked at the thought of Daryl misreading the empty cul-de-sac and trying to chase after the captors on his own. "I have to go," she repeated. "I'll meet all of you back at the camp."

The others nodded and she retraced their steps into the forest, moving as quickly as she could around gnarled tree trunks and fallen branches. A sound startled her halfway through, but she spotted a fluffy tail racing around a bush and lowered her knife. Could it really be a cult that had taken Michonne and Carol? The idea frightened her. She didn't know much about cults in general, but she remembered learning about Charles Manson and Jim Jones in high school. In fact, the Governor had reminded her slightly of Charles Manson, in the way he was able to convince so many people that taking the prison was their God-given right, and that killing the people who already lived there – her family, her friends – was the best way of going about it. She shuddered. Could it happen again?

She reached the cul-de-sac quickly and crouched behind the shed in Rick, Carl, and Judith's backyard. It never hurt to be extra cautious. Nothing looked amiss, but looks could be deceiving – she crept around the side of the house, staying low to the ground, one hand always hovering above her knife. Beth had just reached the corner closest to the front door when someone grabbed her from behind and clapped a rough hand over her mouth. She let out a strangled yelp and immediately began to struggle.

"Relax, it's me, it's me!"

Beth couldn't help but roll her eyes and elbow Daryl in the ribs as she turned around.

"Jeez, girl, that hurt," he complained, rubbing the spot. "You're bonier 'n you look."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she hissed. "I could've hurt you!" She punched him lightly on the shoulder to get out the last of her aggression, then cupped his face in her hand. "I'm glad you're okay, but never, ever do that to me again."

"I didn't mean to scare you. And lower your voice," he whispered, pulling her down to a crouch next to the fence.

"Is there anyone here?" Beth looked around fearfully, gripping Daryl's arm.

"Not right now, but there was just a few minutes ago. They left again, in that broke-ass car 'a theirs. It's drippin' oil everywhere." He gestured to the road in front of them, where several fresh stains marred the pavement.

"Is Judith okay? And Mika? Did you check?"

Daryl nodded. "They're fine. I told 'em to stay inside."

Beth nodded. "Rick thinks it might be a cult," she muttered.

Daryl grimaced. "That makes sense. I didn't see where they're stayin' – lost 'em pretty quick after they got on the highway – but I heard one of them talking to another. Said somethin' about…" He glanced at Beth. "Well, they used some unkind words, but let's just say I could tell they were talkin' about Carol and Michonne. And they said…'They'll all understand soon.'"

Beth shivered. She hoped it wasn't what they thought, but no matter what, it certainly didn't sound like they'd be understanding something good. "They didn't see you, right?" she asked, concern etched on her pretty face.

"Nah, they never saw a thing." He appeared to deem it safe to emerge, helping Beth to stand and moving to open Rick's door. "The others gonna be back soon?" he asked. "Beth?" He turned and looked at her properly. "Hey, you okay? You're pale as a ghost."

"I'm – I'm fine," Beth stammered, holding a hand to her head. "I must've just got dizzy when we stood up. I'm fine, go ahead," she assured him, waving her free hand forward.

Daryl snorted. "You're not fine. C'mere." Beth was reminded of their short-lived stay at the mortuary as he scooped her up. "I ain't leaving you alone. You can lie down on the couch in here." He shifted her weight to his left side and used his right hand to tap on the door in a pattern that sounded suspiciously like 'Shave and a Haircut.' They waited a moment before the 'two bits' reply sounded from inside. "I taught her that," Daryl proudly told the woman in his arms.

The door opened before them, revealing a safe-and-sound Judith. "Why're you carryin' Beth, Daryl?" she asked, following them to the couch nearby.

"She just needs to lie down for a while. She's all right. Make sure the door's locked up tight behind us, okay?" Daryl replied, propping a pillow behind Beth's head.

"Is she really okay?" asked Mika in a low voice. She had emerged from behind a makeshift barricade. Daryl didn't respond, his gaze trained on Beth's face. The woman herself wasn't sure what to say. A sneaking suspicion had occurred to her a day or two back, but she hadn't allowed it to form completely. Michonne and Carol going missing just pushed it farther back into the recesses of her mind. It came back full force now, but she didn't want to tell Daryl in front of Mika and Judith, so she forced a weak smile.

"I'm fine," she assured the trio surrounding her. "Go make sure the rest of the group's okay," she urged Daryl, giving him a stern look when he hesitated. "I'm _fine_. They might not be." Knowing she was right, he told Mika to run and get him or another member of the group if anything happened while he was gone.

"I'll be right back," he assured the younger girl, though his gaze was trained on Beth's face as he said it. He frowned slightly, then disappeared out the front door. The three of them sat (or in Beth's case, lay) in silence, all of them listening hard, as if they could hear Daryl reaching everyone else. Instinctively, Beth tried to memorize exactly the way he'd looked at her, his handsome face filled with concern and love, as if she'd never see him again.


	9. Dead End

Despite her concern about Daryl and the rest of the group and all of their fates – would they be able to stay in the place they now called home, or would they be forced out again, like the prison? – Beth quit fighting sleep after dozing off and jerking awake a few times. She decided she felt secure enough with the doors barred and Mika keeping watch, and she knew she desperately needed the rest.

However, her dreams were not peaceful. Daryl's face dominated, but he looked older, war-torn, like he was giving up. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't force dream-Beth to reach out to him. Eventually he led her to a graveyard. Every grave held the name of someone they cared about – _Hershel Greene_, one read. _Glenn Rhee_ and _Maggie Rhee_. _Carol Peletier_. _Rick Grimes_, _Carl Grimes_, _Judith Grimes_, all clumped together. Then Daryl led her to the last gravestone. _Daryl Dixon_. "No!" she tried to scream, but she couldn't, the wasted effort making her throat burn.

She awoke suddenly and leaned to the side of the couch to vomit on the floor. The retching made the searing pain in her throat even worse. "It's okay, it's okay," someone murmured, sounding like her mother, but still lost in her dream, Beth couldn't tell if it was real or imagined. A cool cloth was pressed to her forehead and she leaned back into the pillow, shivering so hard her teeth clacked together. "She's sick," the voice said. "I knew she looked way paler than usual."

"What do we do?" another, fainter voice queried. No reply came and Beth sank into darkness.

* * *

When she woke up again, Beth couldn't tell how long she'd been passed out for. Someone had laid a blanket over her and it had wound itself around her head in her sleep. It was still light outside, but she felt as if she'd been dead to the world for days, so it could easily be the next morning. She sat up slowly, wary of dizziness, and cast her gaze around the silent room. Silent but for the groans. She jerked in surprise as she glanced out the front window and saw a parade of walkers passing right in front of the house.

They were trundling by in their customary step-drag-step fashion, and it didn't seem as if they'd noticed Beth…yet. Her breath coming in short gasps, she moved by millimeters until she could drop to the floor, staying out of view. She noted that some invisible hand had cleaned up her vomit from earlier. There was no sign of either Mika or Judith, and Beth prayed they were safe in the back room. Could she make it there without attracting the attention of the walkers? What if they weren't there? Were Daryl and the others safe? Her mind raced as she tried desperately to decide what to do. She still felt weak and unbalanced, and she cursed herself for roaming all through the woods when she already knew she wasn't feeling well. She crawled forward a foot or two and lifted her head just enough to watch the shadows bypassing the house. In less than thirty seconds, she counted more than a dozen walkers. Her pulse quickened as she wondered where they'd come from and where they were going now. What if they attacked Daryl and the others? Flattening herself to the floor once again, she shuffled to the hall that led to the back room, making sure to grab her knife off the coffee table as she passed it.

"Mika!" she hissed as she neared the back room. "Jud-" She cut herself short as she glanced up at the door. 'DEAD INSIDE' was streaked across it in long, dripping letters. "Oh God," Beth whispered, her throat thick with unshed tears. There was only one option left: get outside, face the walker herd, and try to find someone, anyone who could help her.

**A/N: This chapter is VERY short, and that is partially because I'm not sure where I want to go with this next. So, if you'll help me out, please take the poll in my profile. What do you want to see next? Do you want to see what happened while Beth was asleep OR do you want to be left in the dark for a bit longer and just see where Beth goes, etc.? **


	10. Survive

**A/N: From the results of the poll and comments, it seems like most people want to see what's going on with the other characters for a bit. And I say, give the people what they want! This chapter will be split into two. Here is part one.**

"She's sick," Mika said grimly, pressing a cool cloth to the older girl's forehead. "I knew she looked way paler than usual."

"What do we do?" Judith asked, her tiny brows knitted in worry. She often felt much older than her five years, more mature, like her big brother told her sometimes. But right now, all she wanted was her daddy. He could fix this. She couldn't.

"Beth? Beth?" Mika shook her shoulder gently and stared at the girl's face. "I think she's totally unconscious." Judith burst into tears and Mika got down on her knees so she was on her level. "No, don't cry, Judith," she said in soothing tones. "She'll be all right. I promise. She's just sleeping. We need to get Daryl, though. He'll know what to do." Judith nodded and Mika wiped the tears from the little girl's face with her fingers. "C'mon, let's go."

All was calm and quiet as the girls headed out in search of Daryl. Both had been taught basic tracking, and Carol had continued her self-defense lessons (with Rick's blessing) after they'd settled in the cul-de-sac. Mika felt all of her knowledge flying out of her head, though. She knew it was a very bad sign that Beth had apparently lost consciousness. Sure, there was every chance the older girl could be perfectly fine, but Mika had a sinking feeling when she thought about what they'd find upon their return to the cottage. Would Beth still be alive, or would some awful creature have already taken her place? She confessed none of her fears to Judith, however. The little girl shouldn't have to bear the burden of Mika's trepidation.

She gripped the tiny brunette's hand as they headed into the forest, looking for clues that Daryl had recently come through the area. Luckily, the man thought ahead and had left subtle signs of the direction he'd gone, his careful planning ensuring that the girls would be able to find him if something happened to Beth. A stick was broken in two here and there, or a bright red clump of berries caught their eyes, or a torn-off piece of bark jutted out from a tree. Mika concentrated hard, zeroing in on every tree trunk, each foot of forest floor, so she wouldn't miss anything. "This way," she occasionally muttered, and Judith would follow, all of her trust put in this girl who was only ten years older than her. Once, she tripped, but managed not to cry out or whine about the scrape on her knee. She'd been taught from the very beginning that noise could get you hurt.

"Stop," Mika whispered after about a half an hour of trailing. She held up a hand and cocked her head. "You hear that?" Judith shook her head, but Mika could just barely make out the rumbling sounds of voices. "I bet Daryl found everybody else," she said excitedly, smiling at the younger girl. "Come on, we have to find them." As they drew closer to the source of the voices, Judith started to hear them too, and the two girls soon could make out every word that was said, plain as day.

"Why can't we just kill them?" were the first words they heard properly. Mika grabbed Judith and hauled both herself and the girl behind a wide tree trunk, clapping a hand over Judith's mouth.

"You know _why_, Brother," someone else, someone with a very deep voice, said. "We need them."

"Yeah," the more nasal voice said reluctantly. "The black one's a fighter, though." _Michonne? _Mika asked silently. "The lesbian's just quiet." Mika cocked her head again. Who was he talking about now? Carol?

"I'm not a lesbian," a woman said flatly. Judith jerked in Mika's arms, her eyes widening at the sound of her Aunt Carol's voice, but Mika held fast, waiting. The voices sounded like they were headed in their direction. She didn't want to think about what would happen if they were discovered. A clump of yellow wildflowers growing at the base of the tree in front of them caught her eye, and she stared at them as she tried to steady her breathing. The slightest sound could give them away. Luckily, Judith was a smart cookie, and followed her cue. Mika hardly dared to move her gaze to the group trudging through the forest, just a few meters from where they stood.

Two men led Carol and Michonne, whose hands were bound behind them with twine. Michonne had a handkerchief stuffed in her mouth. Carol just looked irritated. The men were both tall and lanky, one with a heavy beard and one without. They wore all black clothing, though it was faded and dingy from years of use, and black hats. They each also carried a revolver.

"What is our purpose, Brother?" the bearded man asked as they walked along. His was the deeper voice.

"To survive," the other recited as if from memory. The bearded man nodded, and they fell silent.

Mika didn't dare breathe until the group had moved a far enough distance away that they could no longer be heard. Glancing down at Judith, she hurriedly removed her hand from her mouth.

"Sorry."

"Who were they?" Judith asked, wiping at her face.

Mika shrugged. "I don't know. Nobody good." She rubbed her hands up and down her own arms. She was trembling and the fine hairs on her skin stood on end. "We have to keep looking," Mika said, taking Judith's hand again. At least those men hadn't gotten Daryl and the others.

* * *

Daryl held tight to the crossbow slung across his back, ready to aim, shoot, and fire at a moment's notice. His blood ran cold and his mouth was dry.

He'd reached the others with ease. They'd left pretty obvious clues to their whereabouts. Beth was in the back of his mind the entire time he'd tracked the group's path. What if she was sicker than he realized? What if something terrible happened in the small amount of time he was gone? What if someone else found Mika, Judith, and Beth? He loved those girls like he never imagined he could have loved anyone – in different ways, of course. Beth was _his_, but Mika and Judith were as close to daughters as he thought he'd ever get.

Like his worst nightmares were coming true, only moments after he'd reunited with Rick, Carl, Maggie, Glenn, and the others, they'd had to throw themselves flat to the ground and collectively hold their breath. A group of black-clad men in hats walked single-file only yards away from them. It was a miracle they hadn't been spotted. Daryl's blue gaze followed the men as they trailed through the forest, calm as could be, as if they were taking a stroll through the park on a Sunday afternoon after church. His puzzled expression quickly gave way to one of utter revulsion as a whole troupe of walkers staggered their way into view. The group of men was leading them by ropes, as Michonne once had, only Daryl didn't think they were doing it for protection. All of the walkers were intact (well, as intact as any walker was) – their jaws still attached, their arms still reaching ahead, stretching to snatch at the living flesh before them. Daryl could do nothing but hang onto his bow and pray that they couldn't smell him. He knew the walkers' vision was poor as piss, but their sense of smell was decent, and they could hear better than your average human too. His skin crawled as the creatures passed them by, growling and snarling as they went. Moving only his eyes, Daryl glanced over at Rick, who was only inches away. Rick held his gaze steadily, passing a silent message between them. These men were to be feared.

Daryl's pulse sped up as he watched the ragtag group turn slightly and head in the direction of the cul-de-sac. _No! _he thought, certain that his presence would be given away by his impossibly loud heartbeat. He could feel it in his ears. Jaw clenched, he glanced at Rick again, who shook his head almost imperceptibly. Daryl squeezed his eyes closed and concentrated on staying still, even though all he wanted to do at that moment was leap up and shoot down every last one of them, man and walker alike. He'd never had a panic attack before – closest he ever got was when he'd had to take down his brother – but his chest felt like it would burst and his breath was coming in short gasps. They were headed for Beth. He'd left her unprotected. He already had Sophia on his conscience. He could not be responsible for Beth's demise, too. He'd sooner sacrifice himself and what little he had to offer.

* * *

"Well, ain't this a nice little home-sweet-home," drawled one of the men with Carol and Michonne as they approached the cul-de-sac. "Aww, cute." He bent his head slightly to look in one of Rick's windows. "Oh, look, they even have a garden," he almost cooed, making Carol's skin crawl. "Russell, grab me some of them veggies, would ya?" He bent his head to Carol's ear conspiratorially. "I do so love early-winter vegetables." Carol just stared at him steadily. Her wrists were wrapped behind her with rough twine that chafed whenever she moved. Otherwise, Jackson – the tall bearded man – hadn't seen fit to bind her or gag her. Michonne hadn't been so lucky. Carol resisted exchanging glances with her friend; she didn't want the Survivors to think they had any special connection; she wanted to appear invincible.

The Survivors – that's what this group called themselves. They claimed to be a group just like any other in this world, just like Rick's group, but there were stark differences. _We don't wear matching clothes_, Carol thought. _We don't kidnap women_. _We don't keep the walkers we find_. The two women had been horrified to find that the Survivors traveled with walkers. It was the first thing they'd noticed when they stumbled up to the camp. Carol and Michonne had been on an innocent early-morning stroll when a beat-up car screeched alongside them and they were hauled violently into the trunk. Michonne was pissed off because she'd dropped her katana. Of course, the Survivors had relieved them of all weaponry, so she would have lost it anyway, but Michonne without her katana was like Daryl without his crossbow – it just wasn't right. Carol felt naked too, without her knife. She hated feeling vulnerable. It reminded her too much of Ed.

Carol snapped out of her thoughts as Jackson spoke again. "Let's just see if we can't find anythin' useful in here, shall we?" He tugged Carol toward the back of Rick's house. _Please let everybody be gone_, she prayed. The camp looked abandoned, and she knew that usually meant one of two things: the group had gotten spooked by something and was traveling, or…she didn't want to think about the alternative. Didn't want to imagine a Daryl-shaped walker or a Maggie with blood streaked across her face, a Rick with half his torso torn off. She squeezed her eyes shut to try and banish the image.

Jackson wrapped his hand in a kerchief and easily smashed the back room window, brushing away the glass like it was sand. "Well, that was easy, wasn't it?" he smirked. Carol hated him. She hated him so much.

"Walkers loose!" a panicked voice called from the middle of the cul-de-sac. Jackson rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Incompetent fools," he said under his breath. Carol turned around to see two walkers stumbling their way to the window. The noise of the glass breaking must have drawn them. "Ah, shit," Jackson muttered. He tugged her through the next door right as the walkers reached the broken window, crashing into the side of the house and using the momentum to launch themselves into the back room. Jackson slammed the door shut just in time, locking it behind him. He started to move further into the house, but Carol stopped him.

"Wait," she said. "Uh…with my group, we always marked the door when a walker was locked inside. It was for safety." Jackson raised a skeptical eyebrow and she was quick to add, "But it could work for you – us too." She loathed grouping herself together with these men, but it was for safety's sake. "We don't have time to grab them right now, but if we mark the door, we'll remember they're back there and get them before we leave. You don't want to lose two, do you?" She waited nervously. Eventually Jackson nodded.

"Good thinkin', missy. Tell you what – you can even do it yourself." He reached behind her and cut through her bindings with his pocketknife. "Ah, ah, ah. I'll be right here watching. Don't you go nowhere." He winked at her and Carol felt another wave of revulsion wash over her.

"What about paint," she asked flatly.

Jackson shrugged. "Don't see none around here, and you say we can't go into the house until we mark the door, so…" He smirked again. "Want me to help you out?" He raised the pocketknife and mimed scraping it across her arm. Carol sniffed. What did she have to lose? She held out her arm obediently. She'd thought about doing this herself a million times. The pain wasn't so bad. It was messy, though. Her instinct was to stem the flow, but she needed it to write. She breathed evenly and slowly, willing herself not to pass out as she formed letters on the door.

"Good," Jackson said with satisfaction when she was done. "Here." He threw his handkerchief at her. "I'm _pretty_ sure there's no glass in there still." Carol didn't care. She snatched it and wrapped it around her arm as tightly as she could stand. The instinct to survive was stronger than the will to die.

Someone called Jackson's name from outside. "We'd best get going. Let's take a quick look around first, though, huh?" He seemed to sense that Carol didn't want him to explore the rest of the house, and relished the idea of going against her wishes.

He tugged her – injured arm first – through to the living room. Carol's heart sank when she saw a thin form wrapped in blankets on the sofa.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Jackson grinned. He started to lean toward Beth, who was clearly just sleeping – clearly to Carol, anyway.

"No!" she jumped in. "That's – that's how we wrap up the people who get bit. After we shoot them." She held Jackson's stare, willing herself not to blink.

"Oh?" he said, glancing at Beth, who mercifully hadn't shifted in her sleep – _Is she unconscious? _Carol wondered – then back to Carol. She nodded.

"No use investigating. She's done for. Wasn't much use to us, anyhow." After an agonizing pause that seemed to last hours, Jackson nodded and led the way to the front door, back out to the rest of his group. Although she wasn't a religious woman, Carol said a quick prayer for Beth as she shut the door behind them.


	11. Run

**A/N: After some debate, I decided to continue with Beth in this chapter.**

_"Mika!" she hissed as she neared the back room. "Jud-" She cut herself short as she glanced up at the door. 'DEAD INSIDE' was streaked across it in long, dripping letters. "Oh God," Beth whispered, her throat thick with unshed tears. There was only one option left: get outside, face the walker herd, and try to find someone, anyone who could help her._

Willing herself not to collapse and give up completely, Beth backed away from the room. She could hear the moans and snarls inside – they'd probably smelled her – and blinked back tears. She couldn't believe she'd lost Mika and Judith so easily. There had to have been a struggle; she could see droplets of fresh blood on the floor. Why hadn't she woken up? Tears flowed afresh as she realized that Mika may have taken what she saw as the only way out: sensing grave danger, the girl might have decided to kill Judith and herself as a merciful act, avoiding the suffering that came with the slow, feverish death most endured these days. Beth grasped her head, trying to understand what could have possibly happened while she was conked out. She still felt incredibly disoriented. It was as if everything had changed while she was sleeping and she'd awoken into another world altogether.

Steeling herself, Beth rose to a crouch and eyed the front yard again. The walkers seemed to have dissipated, but they could be waiting just around the corner. She couldn't let it end this way – couldn't let herself wind up eaten by walkers after all these years of gut-wrenching, heartbreaking survival. All she wanted was to give up, just sit down and wait for death to come and save her, but Daryl's face floated into her consciousness and she knew she had to at least try.

Tucking her knife carefully into her belt, Beth inhaled and exhaled deeply and set to gathering supplies, placing them in her rucksack. She had to stop every now and then when dizziness overtook her, but each time it passed and each time she kept going. _There is no other option_, she told herself firmly. _What would Daddy do? Would he just give up? Stop working because he felt a little sick? _She yanked open one of the half-stuck kitchen drawers and rummaged inside for anything useful. Having no use for pizza cutters or food processors, Rick's drawers were mostly empty. But then Beth's searching fingers tapped something tucked in the back of the drawer in the corner. She pulled out a flare. Beth stared at it, her mind working quickly. A moan from outside made her spin around. She was still in danger. Slinging the rucksack on her back and triple-checking that her knife was still on her hip, Beth dropped to a crouch and crab-walked cautiously to one of the front windows. There were no walkers to be seen, but she could still hear the occasional bone-rattling groan. It was growing brighter outside, indicating that she'd slept for at least a day and a half, and fear darted up her spine every time a shadow drifted just out of sight. It was time to go.

Steeling herself for the possible repercussions of what she was about to try, Beth took the flare she'd found in hand and very, very slowly opened the front window, facing the garden. She flinched every time it creaked; the windows were old and in disrepair, so she was grateful this one opened for her at all. For a moment, she simply gazed across the way at her and Daryl's home, the sight of the dusty little cottage making her heart constrict almost painfully. She swallowed the lump in her throat. If only she had a camera. If only she had time to – but no, there was no time to be wasted. She had to move.

Almost hyperventilating, Beth struck the flare once – twice – the third time it caught. Adrenaline surged through her body and she bit her lip, took a deep breath, and hurled the flare as hard as she could. All that muscle-burning crossbow practice with Daryl had apparently paid off, as it hit her target almost perfectly. The garden was ablaze in seconds and as she flattened her back against the wall, Beth watched walker after walker in her peripheral vision, all of them drawn to the flames like so many moths. When the moment felt right, she burst through the front door and ran for her life.

* * *

Beth didn't know how long she'd been running. She'd sprinted out of Rick's door and into the forest like she was doing the hundred-yard dash. She didn't stop until she physically couldn't go any farther without collapsing. Sucking in oxygen as quick as she could get it, she leaned against a tree, resting her hands on her thighs. Nothing around her looked familiar, but she took comfort in that, since she knew that meant she was far, far away from the herd of walkers. Beth grabbed a canteen out of her pack and took a long, deep pull. The water revived her somewhat and she started looking at her surroundings more carefully, more analytically. She tried to look through Daryl's eyes, and gradually, as she focused, little signs began to present themselves to Beth. She became a tracker.

Oddly, as Beth followed the path that she was sure would lead her to Daryl, the markers grew more and more obvious. Eventually she stumbled upon a fire that was still faintly smoldering. Daryl would never allow that. None of her group would. There were others out here. She gripped the handle of her knife hard and tried to quiet her breathing so she could hear better. The sounds that had seemed perfectly innocuous only seconds earlier now rang sinister: that insectile buzzing could be a whispered conversation, that rustling could be someone readying his weapon. For the first time in a long while, Beth felt completely and utterly alone.


	12. Hideout

**A/N: Another fairly short chapter for you all. I have to cut it off where it feels right. I hope you enjoy it! Seems we're getting closer to some answers here.**

Beth stirred as a droplet of water landed precisely in the center of her forehead. She frowned, eyes still closed, and waved a hand, ushering away the disturbance. Then it happened again. And again. Bright blue eyes popped open and as Beth sat up, the rain dripped down her face. "Ugh," she muttered, wiping it away. Then she looked up wistfully, hoping that a few drops might, by chance, land in her dry mouth. She'd run out of water the day before and hadn't been able to find another source. Nothing but damp branches, their bark dyed almost black, stared back at her. She stretched, even her young bones feeling stiff from sleeping against a tree trunk. At least there were no signs that she'd been disturbed during the night. All of the empty cans strung around her were exactly as she'd left them, and besides, she would have woken at the sound of their rattling if something – or someone – had approached her.

It had been three days since Beth fled the cul-de-sac. She was as cautious as cautious could be, trying to channel the old, never-took-a-risk, sheltered version of herself. Before the outbreak. Before the prison. Before her father. Finding the remains of that fire had spooked her, and she feared that the signs she hoped were from Daryl were really from…whoever else was out there. She'd gotten so used to it being just _them_, just her and Daryl and Rick and Maggie and everyone. No strangers, all safety. Apparently, those days were gone now. A tear trickled down her cheek and she angrily wiped it away. Drawing in a deep breath, Beth gathered up her supplies, including the string of cans, and pressed on. To where, she knew not.

When it was getting close to dusk, the sky darkening and the air cooling around her, Beth scouted out a good place for her to camp out for the night. She was never certain of which direction she was moving in, but so far she hadn't come across the same place twice, so she hoped she wasn't going in Sisyphean circles. As she was unpacking her bag, resigning herself to a half-empty bag of chips for dinner, a distinctly human sound reached her ears. Her head snapped up. Someone was talking.

Knocking a hand into her ear a few times, just to be sure she wasn't hallucinating, Beth listened harder. Definitely human. Definitely speech. Almost definitely not her group. She stuffed what little she had unpacked back into her bag and clambered up a low-branched tree, thanking God she'd been a tomboy as a kid. It was somewhere around early November, so the bare branches did little to hide her presence. She could only hope that whoever was approaching didn't look up. She found herself hoping for a lot of near-impossible things these days.

"This seems like a good place to set up," were the first intelligible words she could distinguish. It was a low, gruff voice. Several footsteps followed.

"I wish we could fix that dang car," another voice whined. Beth held herself as still as she could, hardly daring to breathe.

"If wishes were horses…" someone else chuckled. "It was leaking oil for weeks, Brother, how long could you expect to keep it goin' without a decent mechanic?" The group continued to murmur about the broken-down car while Beth's heart sank into her toes at the realization of who these people were. On some level she'd known as soon as she'd found the fire, but she'd hoped for the best: maybe another group like hers, good people in a bad situation, but no. These were the people who'd taken Michonne and Carol. She was sure of it. As this passed through her head, Beth nearly fell out of the tree at the sight of the very women she'd been thinking about. She clamped her lips shut just in time to silence a gasp and steadied herself on a branch, her stinging, scraped-up palms notwithstanding.

Both women walked with heads bowed, Michonne's hands bound behind her back. The warrior was limping and Beth winced in sympathy; her twisted ankle had never gotten the chance to heal. Carol was unrestricted but looked like she'd had the spirit knocked right out of her. Beth noticed a dirty bandage wrapped around one forearm and bit her lip. _At least they're alive_, she thought, longing to call out to them. For a moment, Beth considered drawing attention to herself to distract these ominous-looking men, to give Carol and Michonne a precious opportunity to get away. They were far more valuable to the group than she was. She took several silent deep breaths, but just as she was about to whistle – intending for all those below to look up and notice her – Michonne happened to glance skyward.

The warrior's eyes widened, but she gave no other sign that she'd spotted her. The older woman simply retrained her gaze on the leaf-coated ground. It happened so quickly that Beth immediately doubted that it had happened at all. She was still feeling ill and it could be a hallucination; in fact, she could very well still be lying on the couch in a house surrounded by walkers at this very moment. But before she could slide too deep into the rabbit hole, Michonne glanced up again and locked eyes with her, squinting slightly with a barely perceptible shake of her head. Silent message received: _Stay there_._ Don't move_. Beth nodded and held on tight.

As the evening pressed on, the men below built a fire – rather poorly, Beth thought – and feasted on cans of baked beans, the scent wafting up temptingly to her nose. Neither Michonne nor Carol was offered any food. With little else to do, Beth made herself as comfortable as she could, perched precariously in the tree as she was, and listened to the men talk.

"How far do you think we'll be able to get tomorrow, Brother?" the whiny one who complained about the car earlier asked. Beth watched the tallest man in the group, who had a thick beard covering most of his face, shrug a shoulder.

"Can't be sure, 'specially if this weather keeps actin' up, but if nothing holds us back…not too long." Here he turned his head toward a third individual in the group, who had the good sense to lower his gaze in what Beth thought was probably shame. He must have caused some kind of obstacle. "And if we don't have any run-ins with biters," the bearded man added, still staring. "Lord knows we lost our protection." Beth tilted her head quizzically. What protection? Guns? No, she could clearly see revolvers strapped to several of the men's sides. They must have some other form of defense against the walkers.

"We can always keep 'em, Jackson," someone suggested timidly. "Like the others."

"That worked once, ain't sure it's gonna work again…" Here the man called Jackson gave another pointed look to a now-cowering individual. Beth almost felt bad for him. Almost. "We'll see," Jackson muttered eventually. Soon after, the men began to unpack and settle in for the night, rolling out sleeping mats and blankets.

"Keep the fire burnin'!" someone announced, far too loudly, in Beth's opinion. "We wanna stay warm." Beth almost snorted. They were all going to sleep at the same time around a fire? This wasn't Girl Scout camp. They clearly had no idea how to defend themselves. How had they managed to kidnap Carol and Michonne? Dumb luck and the element of surprise, she supposed.

Beth settled in too, as best she could, anyway. She didn't plan on sleeping much, too wary of how easy it would be to fall out of the tree in her unconscious state. The sight of Michonne and Carol alive, if not entirely unharmed, was a comfort, but she couldn't help wishing she had run into Daryl instead. Her heart ached as she thought about him – everything they'd both lost over the years, and now it seemed they'd lost each other. She had to keep herself convinced that Daryl was fine, most likely looking for her, and thinking of her too. Maybe even at that very moment. Wrapping one arm around a branch to secure herself, Beth stared at the stars through the filmy clouds above and wondered if Daryl was looking at them too.


End file.
